Requiescat
by Ness Ayton
Summary: How did the story of "Robin of Sherwood" eventually end? A Huntingdon story which contains character death.


**Requiescat by Ness Ayton**

First published under the title "Death Shall Have No Dominion" in Longbow 5 and restored to its original title here.

* * *

"Marion."

The voice from the bed was barely more than a whisper, but the woman standing at the window heard. She turned and hurried across the room. Seating herself beside the bed's occupant she took his hand.

"Hush my love, lie still," she murmured in a low voice, tenderly stroking the blond hair that was turning silver.

"Where are we?" Robin asked.

"We're at Kirklees," Marion replied. "It was the nearest place to bring you."

"How long?"

"Three days."

"Three!" Robin tried to sit up but, finding himself too weak to do so, gave up the struggle.

"Lie still," Marion urged him again.

"The others?"

"Outside. All except...." She faltered.

"All except Nasir," he finished for her.

"How did you know?"

"I saw him fall."

There was silence for a while, then Robin took his wife's hand in his.

"There's something I must do," he whispered. "Ask John to come in."

Reluctantly Marion left his side and crossed over to the door. Opening it she saw John leaning against one of the stone walls of the abbey. Tuck and Much, she noted, were asleep whilst Will paced restlessly at the far end of the cloister.

"John," she called softly. At once the gentle giant was at her side. "Robin wants you," she explained quietly. Swiftly he entered the chamber and crossed to the bed.

"John." Robin's face was peaceful as he looked up at the man leaning over him. "Thank you for everything," he smiled.

"Robin." John could get no further.

"Say nothing," Robin whispered. "Just help me fire a final arrow."

With tears shining in his eyes John placed the great bow in Robin's hands and lit an arrow from the fire. Cradling the dying man in his arms he helped him draw the bow and loose the flaming arrow through the window. Marion watched in silence, recognising the look in Robin's eyes as the arrow sped towards the greenwood.

"You're leaving me, aren't you?" she accused him as John turned and slipped from the room. He smiled up at her.

"With the king dead you and the others have nothing to fear. My time here is over and I am no longer needed. Herne is calling to me." He turned and looked out of the window.

"Curse Herne," Marion muttered. Robin turned back to her and ran his fingers through her hair.

"No Marion, don't say that. Without him we'd never have been together."

"I suppose not," she agreed with a sigh.

"Help me sit up," he pleaded with her.

Against her better judgment Marion helped him sit up and draw Albion from beneath the bed. The effort cost him dear and he lay back, his whole body racked with coughs. Silently Marion bathed his forehead until the fit was past. At last he spoke again.

"Return Albion to Herne," he instructed her quietly. "There will not be another this time."

"Let me come with you," she pleaded, biting back her tears.

"No, not yet." Robin replied quietly. "The others need your strength."

Silently the tears began to fall and he drew her into his arms.

"No, don't cry, you're a Crusader's daughter," he implored her. Memories tugged at the back of her mind with the words. "We have very little time left," he continued, "but I must tell you that I loved you from the moment I first saw you, and every moment since." Echoes of another's voice mingled with his as he spoke, and, although he didn't say it, she could hear that other whispering "You're like a May morning." Looking into his eyes she saw his love for her shining out and, beyond that, deep within his eyes, another love glowed.

"I love you," she murmured, unconsciously echoing her own words.

"Nothing's forgotten. Nothing is ever forgotten," he reminded her gently. Then his head sank forward and he breathed no more.

Marion shut the door of the chamber behind her and stood facing the outlaws, Albion in hand. They knew what she had to tell them, had known from the very moment they had laid him on the bed.

"Robin is gone," she said quietly. "I am to return Albion to Herne. There will not be another this time."

"So, it's over," Will said. She nodded.

"Over, but not forgotten, Will."

"Aye little flower. For us the fighting is over, but already they sing about Robin-in-the-Hood and his followers. He'll not be forgotten." Tuck crossed himself reverently.

"So what's to become of us?" John asked after a few moments silence.

"We must each make our own way now," Marion replied gently. "I will stay here at Kirklees and finally make my vows to God."

As she finished speaking the great oak door at the end of the cloister swung slowly open and Herne stood there, a sorrowful smile on his face. Hesitantly Marion started to walk towards him and then stumbled to a halt, clutching Albion tightly to her.

"He's...." she began.

"I know."

"We were just coming....."

"Marion, I know." The quiet voice brought the tears to her eyes again.

"Where is my son?" he asked her.

"The room at the end," she whispered.

The Lord of the Trees strode past her to the room where Robin lay. Nuns scurried from his path, crossing themselves and peeping through doorways at their strange visitor. After a short while Herne returned bearing the body of his son. Without a backward glance he left the abbey followed by the outlaws, Marion still holding Albion close.

The small group walked through Sherwood with heavy hearts. Trees dripped rain, and damp leaves squelched under foot as they went. No one spoke; each was busy with their own thoughts. At last they reached the dark lake and crossed over it in silence, accompanied only by the sound of the rain falling on the still waters. Passing through Herne's cave they emerged into a glade which none of them had ever seen before.

A huge oak tree soared above them, spreading its branches as a canopy which blotted out the grey sky. Amongst its roots there was a mound of earth, bare except for a small rosemary bush. Herne gently placed Robin's body next to the mound. Will moved forward.

"Who's bur...?" he began, and then stopped abruptly as realisation dawned on them all.

"It's Loxley, init?" Scarlet continued. Herne nodded.

"Why didn't you tell us?" John demanded as Will turned away from the sight.

"Would you have accepted and followed Robert of Huntingdon if you'd known where Robin of Loxley lay?" Herne asked them gently.

"Perhaps not," John admitted.

"Then you have your answer."

Marion knelt between the two Robins and placed Albion carefully on the ground even as Much fell to his knees and gave vent to the grief that had been denied him for so long.

* * *

The years passed. Marion aged gracefully, becoming the abbess of Kirklees whose wisdom knew no bounds. Tuck returned to the monastic life and died, unable to live within the confines of its walls. Little John and Much returned to Hathersage. Much eventually married one of the village girls and kept the stories of Robin alive by telling them to his children. Little John became almost hermit- like in his existence until none knew whether he still lived or had died. Will found that he could not easily give up forest life and returned to Sherwood where he was finally caught and hanged for poaching.

"Marion, come."

The abbess of Kirklees opened her eyes and saw an open door in front of her, golden light spilling from it and dispelling the gloom of her chamber. A sweet fragrance hung in the air and bird song filled the silence. As she gazed in awe a figure approached her and, with a start, she recognised her shadow lost love. His dark hair fell around his face just as she remembered it, yet she looked around, almost desperately, searching for someone else who should have been there.

Loxley laughed and took her hands, drawing her slowly towards the door; and then she saw, amongst his dark locks, golden ones glinting in the light. His eyes flashed, changing from radiant golden-green to soft grey and back again so rapidly that she felt she must be dreaming. He laughed again.

"You look just as you did the first time I saw you," Robin said gently, and his voice was a mixture of dark and light - two voices that had once spoken to her of love.

"Come, Marion," he repeated. "It is your time now, or are you afraid?"

"I'm a Crusader's daughter," she replied proudly. "I'm not afraid." So saying she stepped through the door into the radiant light.

"You're like a May morning," Robin murmured.

Marion smiled; at last she was safe and at peace in the arms of her one true love - Herne's son.


End file.
